


starving

by patron_saint



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Coming In Pants, Dirty Talk, Fluff and Smut, Grinding, M/M, Making Out, Morning Sex, Post-Canon, Power Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 19:23:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9006547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patron_saint/pseuds/patron_saint
Summary: Yuuri can feel his smirk against his lips, knows Viktor is denying him as a means of payback. He pushes his hips upwards, and the choked noise he receives in response is more than worth the effort. He slides a leg up, rubbing teasing motions into Viktor’s semi hardness. Viktor pulls back, and there’s a warning glint in his eye that is as exciting as it is intimidating. He leans down to mouth wetly at Yuuri’s ear, breath scorching when he breathes out, “You’re being a brat, Yurochka.”





	

Everything is soft when Yuuri comes to. He doesn’t open his eyes, but the light against his lids is still mild. It’s one of the rare mornings he wakes up without the worry of an alarm, and when he stretches lazily he’s reminded of the firm warmth that presses against his back. An arm loops around his waist and pulls them more snugly together, and he feels more than hears Victor’s chuckle at his content sigh. He’s half tempted to go back to sleep, but mostly he’s satisfied to stretch lazily into the sheets. They still smell of fabric softener, with the kind of smoothness that only comes with years of wear. He feels the gentle press of warm lips at the junction of his neck and breathes deeply.

“Good morning, Yuuri.” Viktor murmurs against his skin. Yuuri rolls over until they are chest to chest and finally manages to crack open eyes still thick with sleep. Viktor’s features come into focus slowly. 

“Mm…,” He hums, “Morning.”

He cranes upward for a kiss. Viktor is soft and tastes freshly like mint, and Yuuri almost whines when he pulls away after only seconds. He tries to reconnect them, but Viktor remains just out of reach. 

“Viktor,” He grumbles. This time he can hear the little laugh huffed out above him.

“Morning breath, Yurochka.”

He grumbles about it, but after some gentle prodding and even more evaded kisses, Yuuri pulls himself out of bed and shuffles blearily to the bathroom. Brushing out the sour taste in his mouth wakes him up a bit, and he takes a moment to examine himself in the mirror. His own face squints back at him from under a shock of bedraggled hair. He attempts to maintain it with one hand, smoothing it back off his forehead. It springs loose, scattering back over his face. He splashes water over his face instead, trying in vain to smooth out the pillow creases there. Five minutes later he’s given up and is sliding back beneath the covers to press his cold nose into Viktor’s chest.  
His fiancé squirms, but lets him burrow in nonetheless. It feels safe in his arms, Yuuri thinks, like their own pocket of warmth where time doesn’t exist. A hand slides to the base of Yuuri’s neck, playing with the baby hairs at the nape of it. He thinks he could get used to this. The firmness of Viktor’s chest usually doesn’t make a very good resting place, but listening to his thudding heartbeat, Yuuri finds he doesn’t much mind. Viktor was always strong, but he became even moreso when rehearsing their pair skate. Yuuri pictures the muscles of his biceps, the way they flexed beneath his t-shirt when he lifted Yuuri above him. The teasing pull of his hair turns to nails dragging lightly over his skin, and Yuuri shivers. The fingers trace looping patterns, dipping down to spread between his shoulder blades, tugging the collar of his loose sleep shirt with them.

“Can we…” He begins, but trails off when he isn’t sure what to ask for. The other man simply hums, vaguely inquisitive but mostly distracted, burying his nose in Yuuri’s hair. His breath is hot, and Yuuri swallows when it tickles his scalp. It’s one thing to have just woken up, but the solid length of Victor’s body against him isn’t helping anything.

“Is there something you wanted?” Viktor encourages. His voice is low and knowing, the arm curved under Yuuri reaching to push his shirt up. He strokes the smooth planes of Yuuri’s back, and Yuuri would be feeling intimidated if the touches weren’t so gentle. He takes a moment to collect himself.

“I want you.” He admits, shifting closer to slot their legs together. He’s secretly glad that his face is hidden. He can already feel the pinkness in his cheeks. 

His embarrassment is forgotten when the hands on him retreat and in the next moment he finds himself on his back, caged in between Viktor’s arms on the bed. The blanket tents around them, a barrier between this space and the outside world. Yuuri’s breath catches at Viktor’s gaze for the short moment he sees it before finally, finally their lips meet again. The kisses are slow and measured. Yuuri keeps them languid, despite his initial impatience. Viktor tries more than once to deepen it, but Yuuri only huffs out a laugh at his insistence. He enjoys the frustration he can feel in their shared touches, some small part of him satisfied to know he has this control. Only when Viktor catches his bottom lip between his teeth does Yuuri let him in. The suddenness of the exchange has Yuuri fisting his hands in the fabric at Viktor’s sides. He tugs, trying to convey the message of _get down here now_.

Viktor, exasperatingly, doesn’t comply. Yuuri can feel his smirk against his lips, knows Viktor is denying him as a means of payback. So he pushes his hips upwards, a single sharp movement. The choked noise he receives in response is more than worth the effort, so he repeats the action, pulling at Viktor’s shirt again with a small whine. For added measure, he slides a leg up, rubbing teasing motions into Viktor’s semi hardness. Viktor pulls back, and there’s a warning glint in his eye that is as exciting as it is intimidating. He captures Yuuri’s hands in one of his own, pinning them on the pillow above his head. Yuuri’s breathing goes shallow. Viktor leans down to mouth wetly at Yuuri’s ear, breath scorching when he breathes out, “You’re being a brat, _Yurochka_.” 

And yeah, _okay_ , that does things to Yuuri and the loose material of his sweats are starting to feel significantly tighter. The temperature seems to have risen about ten degrees and his pajamas are downright stifling. He fidgets his hands uselessly, voicing another whine when Viktor ignores his squirming to instead mouth along his neck. He leaves a pattern of open-mouthed kisses across Yuuri’s throat, pausing where his pulse flutters. He presses his teeth there, sucking harshly before lapping at the spot gently and moving on to repeat the process. Yuuri’s hips cant upwards now entirely of their own accord, seeking some kind of friction. He’s pleased to find Viktor in a similar state to himself, half hard and wanting. 

“Vitya-” He gasps out, and he just _knows_ what that does to Viktor, “Let me- ah, let me touch you.”

Viktor meets his eyes again, taking his time to rake his gaze over him, slow and with intent. He can see Yuuri’s impatience, it’s downright palpable between them, and he probably only acquiesces because he’s always had trouble denying Yuuri when he’s begging. It’s the kind of forwardness only ever found in him on the ice and in bed, and always directed at Viktor. When he releases Yuuri’s hands, he makes up for it by capturing his lips once again, wasting no time with a leisurely pace. They kiss quick and messy until Yuuri’s mind has gone blank. His thoughts fizzle out into nothing but the heat and pressure of the moment, senses overwhelmed by the slide of their tongues against each other.  
Yuuri finally tugs Viktor down on top of him and his weight is reassuring when it pushes Yuuri into the bed. The world seems to narrow down to just the two of them then. Yuuri barely has the room to grind upwards, so he settles instead for shifting against the thigh that comes to rest between his legs. The inability to move is equal parts annoying and intoxicating. Viktor rolls down against him- once, twice, three times-, groaning in a way that’s driving Yuuri insane. Lightheaded, he breaks the kiss to turn his head aside and breathe. When he opens his eyes- when did he close them?- Viktor catches him with a hungry look. 

“I bet I could make you come just like this, Yuuri.” He downright purrs the words. Yuuri pauses to catch his breath, feeling something like defiance welling in his chest. He leans upwards on his elbows to bring them only inches apart, pushing away any previous shyness.

“I’ll come on _my_ turns. And you,” He murmurs, not giving Viktor time to react before he has pushed him onto his back and straddled him, “will be lucky if I finish you off, too. Understood?”

Viktor stares up at him, seemingly dazed, hands going reflexively to Yuuri’s hips. Yuuri settles his knees more firmly on either side of Viktor’s waist, settling his weight more fully in his lap.  
“Well?” He prompts impatiently, giving a slow thrust of his hips just shy of Viktor’s erection, “Answer me.”

“Y- Yes.” Viktor agrees with an eager nod. His eyes are still wide with something like awe.

“Good,” Yuuri rewards him with a short peck to the lips, “Now touch me.”

It’s all the encouragement Viktor needs. He slides his hands up Yuuri’s body, helping him tug his shirt off and marveling at the skin exposed to him. Yuuri exhales a quiet shudder as Viktor maps out his body, his palms dipping over the purpling splotches on his neck and dragging across his nipples. His blunt nails graze across Yuuri’s ribs, who trembles at the contact. When the hands come back to rest at his waist, Yuuri finds himself gripped and jerked suddenly downward. The angle pulls a groan from him and he can’t even find it in himself to be mad at the temporary loss of control. Instead he shifts backwards, clutching at Viktor’s knees behind him, and rocks back against his cock. He can feel it straining there, hot and hard, and so wonderful where they slide together between layers of clothing.  
He sets a steady rhythm like that, feeling the strain in his thighs as he works himself up and down. Viktor alternates between caressing Yuuri in every place he can reach and clutching at his hips to work them faster. He looks enthralled, watching the way the other’s stomach muscles undulate in front of him with every rolling movement. Yuuri ruts against him insistently, and Viktor gets this look like he can’t quite believe his luck. The adoration never fails to stir Yuuri up. He keeps letting slip broken little gasps that aren’t even on purpose but that he knows are testing Viktor’s self control. 

“You’re so wonderful,” Viktor pants, “So, so good for me. All mine.”

“A- All yours- ngh, Viktor.” Yuuri rasps. He shifts forward to brace his hands against Viktor’s chest and adjust his position and- _there_. That’s the angle he had been looking for. Electricity slides down his spine in short bursts, but it’s still not quite enough. His movements become urgent now, chasing his release. He wants- _needs_ \- Viktor to do something. Fortunately, Katsuki Yuuri has since learned how to get what he wants.  
“Vit...ya-,” He moans brokenly, “N- need you…”

Something in Viktor alters at that, and the next thing Yuuri knows he’s on his back with his hips tugged upwards, folded nearly in half. The space is intimate and hot with their shared breaths and he’s too far gone to care about losing his dominance. Wrapping his legs around Viktor so his ankles cross at the small of his back, all Yuuri finds it in himself to care about is urging his lover on _faster and harder_. 

“You try to be in control, _Yurochka_ ,” Viktor grinds down into him mercilessly, “but I think you _like_ when I overpower you.” 

Viktor doesn’t give him the chance to respond. He’s driving into Yuuri at a punishing pace and all it takes is the look in his eyes for Yuuri to know he’s a goner. The place where their hips connect is damp and warm in a way that spreads across Yuuri’s body in waves. He cries out when the heat reaches a peak, hips stuttering and toes curling. His spine arches as the pressure in his belly unfolds and wetness spills in his boxer briefs. Viktor works Yuuri through his high, pulling back and laying him down when he makes a noise at the overstimulation. Viktor kisses his forehead, sighing that _you’re just so lovely, Yuuri_. 

“It’s your turn.” Yuuri murmurs contentedly. He moves his heavy limbs just enough to slip his hand past Viktor’s waistband. He strokes him firmly, in quick staccato motions, mouthing at Viktor’s neck where Viktor is bent over him. He was already on the edge, and fortunately it doesn’t take much to send him over. Yuuri twists his hand over the head of the hot length, sinking his teeth into Viktor’s shoulder as he does so. When Viktor comes, it’s whispering praise against Yuuri’s lips.

He removes his hand and huffs when Viktor collapses on top of him, but fondness bubbles up in his chest anyway. He kisses the top of his head softly as they lay in comfortable silence, Viktor dozing on his chest and Yuuri watching the rise and fall of his back with every slow breath. 

“We should get up.” Yuuri reminds him, carding his hands through damp silver hair. His boxers are growing uncomfortable where the come has cooled against his skin.

“It’s a day off. Nap first.” Viktor mutters, and, well. Yuuri really can’t argue with that. He drifts off, warm and sated.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm always a slut for power bottom!yuuri and grinding ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> your thoughts are greatly appreciated! 
> 
> find me @ the-98thdreamer.tumblr.com


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